


Pacific Turnabout

by majorwanderer



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Drama, Drifting with a Kaiju Brain, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Ghost Drifting, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorwanderer/pseuds/majorwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years after the tragic events that resulted in the death of his mentor, Simon Blackquill, a has-been Jaeger Pilot turned construction worker, abruptly finds himself thrust back into the PPDC, and into the life of the very person he was sworn to protect, who is now fighting for her own place in this ongoing war as his co-pilot – something he simply cannot allow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pacific Turnabout

**Author's Note:**

> So, after many, many months and late nights of planning and drafting... here it is: the unholy offspring, given birth from a lethal combination of watching Pacific Rim, while playing the Ace Attorney games. 
> 
> Enjoy.

_**January 3, 2027** _

A canopy of clouds obscured the sky above the construction site, a thick blanket of grey contrasting against the bright intensity of the sparks that illuminated his welding mask. Flickers of amber and gold deflected harmlessly off the pane of glass that was between the worker and the hazardous particles as they burst spontaneously from the blazing joint of metal.

“Hey, Blackquill! Shift’s over!”

He hauled himself to his feet from the steel girder he was seated upon, the muscles in his lower body aching from the hours of inactivity. The figure reached behind briefly to unfasten his shielding mask, before he flashed his co-worker below a warning glare.

“I-I mean, um... _Simon_. I meant _Simon_. ” The lithe man withered under the heat of his gaze.

Grabbing hold of a nearby support pillar, his feet held securely against the sides, the imposing figure of Simon Blackquill swiftly slid down the framework of the tall structure. With a dull thud, his heavy construction boots made contact with the concrete grounds of the Tokyo Shatterdome. His hard hat was tarnished with deep scratches and old grooves.

The shorter man proceeded to amble cautiously over to his side. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he compelled the muscles in his face to form what was supposedly an amicable grin, but it was not returned, met instead with a scowl. His eyes in particular were accentuated by the dark circles that surrounded them, extending into what resembled dark tear streaks, down the front of his face.

“How many times must we go through this, Butz? Never address me by my last name. My first suffices.” And with that, Simon sauntered off in the direction of the commissary office, intent on picking up his daily share of food rations. Not so much as a mere few seconds later, the audible footsteps of Larry trailed not far off behind him, echoing along the dank halls of the building.

Simon instinctively quickened his stride. He was genuinely not in the mood for one of the Butz’s infamous laments over a recently failed relationship. He didn’t need the man’s– _more like child’s_ – excessive drama forced on him after a hard day’s work. He needed peace, quiet, and some time to himse-

“C’mon, buddy! It’s just Larry, all my friends call me that! Aren’t we friends, ‘Blacky’? How about I call you ‘Blacky’? Is ‘Blacky’ good? Or-or maybe the ‘Blackster’? That would make such a cool code name… Oh, wait I know- _oof_!”

The dusty grey back of Simon’s uniform suddenly entered Larry’s field of vision, having accidentally collided into him amidst his raving. Promptly, the larger individual turned about in order to stare down the shorter one.

“Silence!”

Simon’s outburst caused Larry to take a considerable step back. He put up his hands defensively, waving them about in a passive manner in hopes of deterring Blackquill’s growing anger. It felt as though he had accidentally set off a bomb. A savage bomb.

“H-hey look man, I didn’t mean to-” His sentence was immediately cut off as the very air before him was sliced through, what sounded like a blade, whistling past his eyes in the time it took to blink. He recoiled with a yelp. Dumbfounded, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stared at Simon’s empty hands, devoid of any form of weaponry.

“Butz,” Simon paused to pinch the bridge of his nose. He released a laboured sigh and continued. “I have had enough of your blabbering to last me a day, let alone a lifetime, therefore I strongly believe that it would be in your interest to keep quiet rather than have your tongue dismembered. Am I making my intentions clear enough for you?”

After a feeble nod from Larry in silent agreement, Simon continued on towards his destination. Although he still was not all that enthused by the short man treading persistently at his heels, at least Larry had the sense to heed the advice he was given and keep his yap shut.

That is, _did_. For a minute.

He muttered irritably under his breath, breaking the short lived silence.

“Yeesh... what crawled up _his_ Jaeger Pilot ass?”

* * *

**_August 20, 2020_ **

A harsh pounding against the steel plated door of Simon’s bedroom woke him with a start. He gripped his blanket tighter to his person, the wool material lightly grazing against his skin as he pulled it aside in order to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Sweeping aside his dishevelled black bangs that obscured his vision, the young Ranger hung his head drowsily.

There was yet another banging.

“Blackquill! Time for the drop! Let’s move it!”

He cracked open a tired eye, and swivelled his head towards the device seated on his nightstand. The brightly lit numbers of his LED clock blinked, luminescent in the dark and casting an ominous, red glow.

_2:54 am._

Relenting, Simon rose slowly from the comfort of his mattress.

The Kaiju were starting to become slightly too antsy for his liking.

“A pleasant morning to you, little brother.”

Simon looked towards the figure of his sister, long out of her nightgown and zipped up in her uniform. She was crouching in front of the mini-fridge tucked neatly against the wall, placed underneath the countertop that served as a convenient, multipurpose workbench. It was completed with a small kitchen sink, and a coffee kettle that was already furiously boiling away.

When Aura received no reply from her younger sibling, she continued anyway, despite the silence on his end of what seemed to supposedly be a one sided conversation.

“It’s a Category III. The biggest one we’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” quipped Simon, albeit rather drawled.

A sharp ding resounded through the air, the signal that the kettle had completed its task.

Taking hold of the handle, Aura began to pour the piping hot, black coffee into a large mug she had taken from the dish rack beside her. She held the beverage out towards her still dazed brother, who gratuitously took the drink. He practically chugged down the entire thing before handing the empty mug back to his sister.

“Much obliged,” he mumbled groggily, then bolted over towards the bathroom.

“Edgeworth’ll blow a fuse or two if you’re tardy again,” called out Aura over her shoulder as she turned to pour herself her own morning dose of brewed joe.

“Better pick up the pace or you’ll never hear the end of it!”

* * *

 

_3:05 am._

‘ _Taka Alpha’_ s system re-calibrations were well underway, and Simon had yet to arrive. It was only a matter of time before the maintenance crew was finished.

Metis eyed the clock curiously. _Where was he?_ The drivesuit technicians were starting to become restless. On top of that, the process of suiting-up took at least seven minutes, and they were due for debriefing in the Conn-Pod soon. It didn’t take the Psychologist too long to suspect that the Marshals most likely wouldn’t be all too pleased were they to show up late.

She suddenly felt the sensation of a small hand enclosing itself around her much larger one, their fingers interlaced with one another. The smaller appendage clung on with a vice grip.

“Athena? You should be asleep right now, child. What’s the matter?”

A red headed little girl poked her head out from the hiding spot she had taken behind her parent, the bright yellow dress and ribbon she wore accenting the bright sapphire of her large, wondering eyes. The pair of large, bulky headphones resting atop her ears shifted its weight slightly as she leaned forward, pressing herself against the small of the woman’s back, and continuing to cling fervently onto her lab-coat.

“But it’s raining.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“... I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

Athena clung tighter regardless, her face distorting into an upset frown. She bit her lower lip as her eyes started to become glassy. The bright lights of the Drivesuit room reflected off them, and to Metis’ concern, teardrops were streaking down the sides of her guileless countenance.

She was at a loss for words.

Just as she always was when it came to communicating with this child. _The_ child. The child that was her own flesh and blood, whom she had cared and loved for since she had first cried, and yet, whom she found the most difficult to decipher, despite her position as a globally ranked Psychologist. As well as her mother.

Her features emanated obvious concern, that much Athena was able to understand, but it was the elongated silence that followed, which confused her. It always did.

“Athena,” Metis cautiously began, “that does not hinder my performance as a Pilot in the slightest. The Jaeger’s armour acts as an insulator and resists lightning. It’s almost impenetrable to such trivial elements. There is really no need to worry.”

Now it was the small girl that fell silent. She still continued to stare up at the woman with a pleading expression. It was obvious that her explanation had not been able to go through Athena’s mind quite as much as she had hoped. So instead, she settled for tenderly placing her hand atop the child’s head, whose lips eventually turned upwards into a rather reluctant smile.

It was something she always did whenever Athena felt distressed or upset, and for some bizarre reason that still remained unknown to her, the action always managed to calm her down. It had ever since she was a baby. It still continued to perplex the psychologist to this day.

“Apologies, sensei!”

Metis and Athena directed their gazes towards the entrance of the Drivesuit room as a rather unkempt looking Simon rushed through, panting heavily. His ebony hair was askew and his dishevelled bangs partly concealed his eyes, limiting his current range of vision.

“Forgive my impudence, sensei. I won’t let this happen ever again,” hastily spurted the young pilot, bowing low, clearly flustered. Metis resisted the urge to laugh, her worries momentarily pushed to the back of her mind at the sight of her student’s particularly bedraggled appearance.

“Well, you are here _now_ , so that’s that. You arrived with just over several seconds to spare for a suit-up. A commendable accomplishment, Simon.” Her gentle teasing earned a light blush to spread across the man’s face. He scratched the back of his neck abashedly as an equally bashful grin stretched across his lips. “... Naturally.”

As mentor and pupil made their way onto the small, moderately elevated podium in the centre of the room for preparations, Athena seated herself on a nearby workbench, just across from where Simon was standing. He flashed her a congenial smile and a thumbs up as he extended his arms outwards to the sides, in order to allow the technicians to help him into his circuitry suit. This elicited a giggle from Athena.

“What’s so amusing? You’ve seen this plenty of times.”

“It’s still kinda funny though,” managed the little girl through her titters.

Simon couldn’t help but smile. “I suppose so.”

The polycarbonate plates of his battle armour were magnetically secured on to his person with rapid precision. The strike team then received their helmets, and drawing them comfortably over their heads, the pair’s scope of sight was now limited to the confines of their visors as the relay gel slowly dispersed itself throughout their suits.

Athena jittered excitedly in place. “Mother, mother! May I watch you go on your mission?”

Metis’ voice took a warning tone, though she didn’t move as the technicians made their final adjustments to her armour. “Now, now, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. It’s late.” She paused as a peculiar sensation briefly ran through her back; the spinal clamp had been properly fastened. “- It’d be best for you get some rest.”

The child pouted. She crossed her arms, and adamantly stayed put. “Please, mother?”

The woman was prepared to put a final foot down, but was unfortunately interrupted when Simon smoothly stepped in with his counterargument, the adjustments to his own armour already finished.

“How about we let her stay up and watch just this once, sensei? After all, it is a special occasion. We are about to ensnare the largest Category III in existence, and our fifth victory-” he paused to scoop up Athena’s petite frame into his strong arms. Her smile widened. “-We simply can’t deny her such an opportune experience.”

Metis pondered his case, eyeing the two individuals who both wore broad grins of excitement. Inevitably, she relented. “Oh, alright. Just this once. Go on then, to the control room with you before I change my mind.”

* * *

 

A bowl of instant noodles, a mug of strongly brewed coffee and a pair of feet rested atop the console of LOCCENT Mission Control.

Seated upon a chair that was threatening to collapse under his weight, the Chief LOCCENT officer reached over the counter for the lukewarm meal, settling into his seat with a satisfied sigh. He leant heavily back, his elbows resting atop the arm rests lazily as he eagerly consumed his cheap sustenance.

However, his noodle-induced stupor was cut short as the alarm went off, meant to alert Mission Control that the pilots were all geared up and ready for their mission. The officer placed his feet back down on the floor and set his bowl of noodles aside as he reached for the transmitter button.

“Blackquill, Dr. Cykes! Mornin’, pals!” His voice boomed cheerfully through the mic of his communications headset.

The latter’s warm voice resounded through the control panel’s built-in speakers. “A good morning to you as well, Mr. Gumshoe. How are you?”

The man shrugged to himself. “As fine as I can be, I s’pose. The boss docked my salary this week on account of misfiling a few mission reports.”

“Of course he did,” agreed Simon jokingly through the radio. “Well, rest assured, we are always more than willing to take you out for some proper food whenever you’re low on funds.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer _real_ soon, pal. Believe me.”

As the broad shouldered man chuckled heartily at his own misfortune, he failed to notice the two imposing figures that strode up towards him from behind. The sound of one of them clearing their throat notified him of their presence.

“Prepare to engage drop, Officer Gumshoe.”

The Chief LOCCENT officer immediately sat up to attention as he complied with his orders. “Engaging drop, Marshal!” Flipping a switch, a holographic monitor flared to life before him. “Securing the Conn-Pod, and gettin’ ready to drop, pals.”

On the other end, Simon turned back towards the sole exit of the Jaeger, the large, heavy door closing firmly shut behind himself and Metis. He heard the massive gears of the hatch’s locking mechanism, grind to a halt.

“Conn-Pod is secured, ‘ _Taka Alpha_ ‘ standing by for the drop.”

The braces that had once held the detached head of the mech, unfastened their grip and soon Simon and Metis found themselves plummeting down the twenty-storey shaft, leading towards the rest of ‘ _Taka Alpha_ ’s' armour.

As soon as contact was made with the magnetic couplings built into the inner linings of the Jaeger’s collar, the brakes activated, ceasing their high speed descent.

Gumshoe swivelled about on his chair to give his superior a proper salute. “Coupling confirmed, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!”

The addressed silently directed an inquiring glance at his associate by his side. She nodded in acknowledgement and proceeded to give the order. “Engage pilot to pilot protocol.”

The rest of the constraints around ‘ _Taka Alpha’s'_ gargantuan chassis retracted, as the engines of the mobile platform upon which it stood whirred animatedly to life. With a heavy groan, the doors of the massive hangar made way for the mech’s immense form, finally exposing it to the storm that rampaged beyond the Shatterdome walls. The two pilots were instantly greeted by an onslaught of rain that nearly rivalled the strength of a waterfall, and even from within the safe confines of the Conn-Pod, Simon and Metis were able to hear the powerful roars of the tempest’s winds. Thunder claps and blinding flashes of lightning were incorporated into the strifing symphony, conducted by nature’s raging forces.

‘ _Taka Alpha’s’_ headlamps flickered to life and illuminated the darkness that encompassed its surroundings. Jumphawk air crafts hovered closeby with their own headlights cast, serving as navigational guides to the pilots controlling the enormous mech.

Simon reached for the transmitter button on the console above his head. “‘ _Taka Alpha’_ ready and aligned.”

A feminine voice that held an air of authority, resonated in reply. “Rangers, this is Marshal Lana Skye. Prepare for Neural Handshake.”

“Kicking things off in ten seconds, pals.” Gumshoe initiated the countdown.

“ _Ten, nine, eight-_ ”

Metis offered her apprentice a re-assuring smile, instinctively sensing his restlessness. “Ready?”

“ _\- Seven, six, five-_ ”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“- four, three, two-”

The younger man gave a playful bow. “After you, sensei.”

“ _Neural Handshake, initiated_.”

Both Pilots were abruptly thrown into each other’s consciousness. Memorise flashed across their minds in a succession of blurred images, accelerated visions of the past. An amalgam of emotions, a lifetime’s worth of secrets, precious moments, raced back and forth between them as they fought to keep themselves stable throughout the process, the sheer pull and push mimicking that of a game of tug and war.

And this entire experience lasted but several seconds.

The feeling was akin to that of having been taken suddenly following an unusual dream, one that could leave one jostled and at times, frightened.

However, Jaeger Pilots were specially trained to ignore these sensations in order to prevent fatal accidents such as a severe loss of awareness, lapses out of reality, seizures and much worse. Chasing the rabbit, they called it: Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers. Rigorous mental training was expected of from all Pilot recruits in order to prevent this, for fear of interfering with a mission and retracting a Pilot of his or her capabilities. It was imperative that a recruit acquire a certain level of mental control before being allowed within a ten-foot radius of a proper, real Jaeger rather than a simulator.

Or at least that was supposedly the case.

While Simon was no longer the fresh, bright-eyed recruit that he had once been three years prior, melding minds with someone still managed to have such a profound effect on him. The awe and trepidation of experiencing a drift had never failed to surprise him, and he welcomed it with open arms. It probably helped that he was, after all, the apprentice to the very woman who invented and brought about the concept of the drift. To fathom, that she had single handedly designed and invented technology that enabled a neural bridge to be created between two individuals, in order to share the neural load that came with controlling these huge, fighting machines. Her innovation and drive alone was worthy of praise. She was his idol, and what an honor it was to become her co-pilot. His sister had been so jealous.

Metis raised her right arm slowly as the scanners registered her movements. “Right Hemisphere, calibrating.”

Simon did the same with his left. “Left Hemisphere, calibrating.”

The two began to move in tandem, synchronised locomotion.

“Neural Handshake’s strong and holding, pals. Taka is good to go.” The Chief LOCCENT officer threw his superiors a glance in confirmation. The pilots’ vital signs were displayed on the main overhead visuals of the Command Centre, as well as his own monitor.

Lana reached for the transmitter button on the console, leaning down slightly in order to enunciate her directions clearly into the mic. “Blackquill, Cykes, your orders are to maintain the Miracle Mile off Los-Angeles , that Category III is not to move any further than that. Do you copy?”

“Copy that, Marshal,” replied Metis compliantly, “we shall do our best.”

Her student interjected. “Ma’am, our sensors are still picking up a civilian vessel within the perimetre, permission to-”

“Blackquill, my orders were to protect a city of four million, I will not have you put those lives at risk for a boat that holds five. Am I clear?”

“But-”

“ _Yes_ , ma’am. Crystal.”

Simon pointed a particularly conflicted look towards his mentor. “Sensei, we can’t-”

“I know, Simon.” She beamed reassuringly, “I _am_ inside your head after all.”

He smirked. Of course she knew. “Then let us not waste a second more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Do feel free to leave comments/kudos. Thank you for reading!


End file.
